semi-charmed kind of life
by pancake-potch
Summary: post season 8. Jackie and Steven are together, but what if it doesn't matter? AU. Affair/Infidelity fic. Eric/Jackie.
1. Chapter 1

_**Here's a two-part angsty, cheating fic. Although we always think our favorite characters are too good and pure for infidelity, I don't think that's true. As a fully grown married adult, it's easier said than done. History…past loves…unfulfilled expectations…these are things that genuinely occur.**_

She knows what she stands to lose if this ever comes to light. She's more than familiar with the heartbreak and tears and the dangerous paths the mind takes into self- reflection and self-doubt. It's all too common knowledge for her that each time the heart breaks, it gets harder and harder to put back together.

In the stillness of the evening, lying in the bed they now share, she can hear the marching of blood through her veins and wonders how it is she's still alive considering no one can possibly live with such a fractured vital organ.

Jackie rolls to her back and feels the silk of her nightgown catch on the rough sheets. Not like the ones she had graced her bed between the walls of a mansion. The place with antiques and multiple rooms that'd go unused for months and the sound of the maid humming to herself. The kind of place that would grow a girl like her. No. She's here now- rough sheets a testament of how mature she's gotten- because she doesn't complain. Steven had run roughshod over her upbringing and opinions over the years, and now that they were adults (and _together_ ) he still hadn't stopped.

Their friends had always accused her of nattering on about things of no consequence. Clothes and shoes and makeup, whatever else they deemed unimportant slowly faded to the background. And now, at twenty-one, she's only now realizing that she had sold herself short and just because she didn't (and still doesn't) care about politics or rock music or whatever else doesn't mean she isn't less of a person.

And maybe this is why she's lying in bed, still slick between the thighs with the cum of a man that isn't Steven Hyde.

She can still smell _him_ on her, and this is the second time she's come to bed without showering first. Perhaps it's an act of rebellion, flaunting her indiscretions in front of the notorious rebel. To see what she can get away with, how close she can balance along the edge without tottering over.

Now though, she hears Steven come in and watches through lid-heavy eyes as he strips down to his boxers. A sight that once filled her with lust and passion and love is now overshadowed by near indifference. She presses the heel of her palm to her chest and wonders what moment had honed her into a callous, cheating bitch.

But, Steven just flops down next to her, mattress dipping from his weight. "'Night, doll," is all he says before rolling over. He smells like beer and old cigarettes so Jackie rolls over in the opposite direction. Sliding a hand between her closed thighs, she runs a fingertip over the moisture. Rubbing what is left of _him_ between two fingers, she slowly brings it up to her closed lips.

And for a moment she can pretend its Eric next to her.

It starts at the end.

It feels like the end because they were all grown- jobs and college and family have all scattered them. It's the first time they've all gotten together, just the six of them in months. It certainly looks like 'the good ol' days,' with them packed into the Forman's basement taking the places that were designated for them years ago.

Yet while everyone's life was fanning them out in different points like a pinwheel, she was still there, perched on the lap on Steven, while he drank beer and caught up with their friends.

But, that isn't right. Unlike the loud, opinionated teenager she was then, demanding attention, she finds herself more reserved. When she does try to join in, they speak over her. She tries again, and Steven just snorts and says something like, "Doll face, you wouldn't know." What it is she doesn't know, she can't remember, but she does remember blinking back tears as she clutches a lukewarm beer in one hand while fingering a hole in his shirt collar with the other- staring at the KISS poster that's still up-and thinking how she had let herself come to this.

No one defended her, or asked her what ever it was she was trying to say, and it dawns on her that maybe they weren't her friends after all. All the years of teasing her or belittling her or outright dismissing her suddenly can't be brushed off anymore.

 _After all these years_ , and she still hasn't fully integrated into this group. _After all this time_ , she's finally cottoned on. The realization feels like being stabbed with a dull knife between the ribs. Was she _that_ insufferable? That _unlovable_ - _unwanted_?

The urge to flee consumes her. Her muscles tense and she pivots oh so slightly in Steven's lap, preparing to get up slowly, to set the beer down on the spool and casually walk out. Jackie Burkhart wants to step through that door and never, ever look back. Not at Steven or Donna or Fez…none of them.

The laughter buzzes around her, but it's faint and indistinct, as if she's underwater. The low rumble of Steven's voice reverberates in her chest, and somehow that springs her into action. She moves slowly, because it now it feels as if she's _moving_ underwater, and does what she set out to do.

Halfway down the driveway she wonders if anyone even knew or cared that she left.

"Jackie?"

She startles and turns around to find Eric clutching two beers. What on Earth he could possibly want from her, she isn't sure. Wasn't he the one who hated her the most? She raises an eyebrow, waiting for him to say something. Something sarcastic or rude or insulting.

"Where're you going? I thought we were…" He trails off and waves an arm in the direction of the basement door.

"Thought we were…what?" She's engaging in a conversation she doesn't want to be in, and suddenly she tired. Eric looks at her confused, as if she's asked the question in Russian, and that just makes her more exhausted.

"Catching up, obviously. Where you going?" The thing about the expression he has doesn't clear anything up for her. He looks genuinely curious and baffled, beers still in his hands.

Somehow, though the specifics are a little hazy, he talks her into staying. They share the beer he brought out as the made their way to patio chairs. The conversation is a little awkward at first, but gradually becomes friendly. Her defenses are still up, but when he offers to grab more beer- gliding through the screen door, the recognizable clacking of the blinds still the same- she decides that maybe he isn't out to humiliate her.

They talk, just the two of them, and it strikes her that it is so far beyond anything she's used to, it trips her up momentarily. And, despite how rude and uncouth he was to her so long ago, he isn't like that now.

And that's when he first kisses her.

She freezes, knowing that cheating is _so wrong_. Just a meeting of lips is enough because she knows- _she knows_ what that did to _her_.

But it can't be helped. Eric pulls away and apologizes, but she pulls him back to her and reciprocates in the direst of ways.

She had shaken off the notion that she needed a man to make her complete, but Eric ( _oh Eric_ ) was a crush she was never willing to admit to herself, and she's flattered that he kissed her because he's one of the _Good Guys_.

 _He lifter her up on the picnic table in his parent's yard, crickets chirping. It was still a Wisconsin summer. His breath is heavy in her ears as he unsnaps her blouse._

 _She scrambles to kick off a boot that would allow her to peel off her hose, and the guilt hits her. The palpitating shame is almost welcoming. Jackie is acutely aware of her actions, though she suspects she could blame it on the small bit of alcohol she's had._

 _But she doesn't._

 _Eric gently pulls her legs aside as he closes in on her, and she unbuckles his belt. They stare at each other as if they both are questioning, hoping. Her lips part as she stares into his green eyes, and as if it's muscle memory she tilts her head back and spreads her legs open just far enough for him to meet her._

 _And he does._

 _His long fingers swipe at her panties just enough to insert himself in her._

 _He pounds away, filling her up as her head bangs against the hard wood of the table._

A/N I'm not trying to demonize Hyde, but to me? He's always sort have been insensitive to Jackie. She was trying to mold herself into someone he'd want, although that's not who she really is, you know?

Also: this is the closest thing to smut I've written.

Like it? Hate it? Let me know.


	2. Chapter 2

He's in the car driving toward their apartment because he needs answers. He supposes he needs to see her in person, because a phone conversation just wouldn't be enough.

He _needs_ to see her to get how he feels about her straight. If he sees her, she'd be able to contextualize what they did, put it under a microscope to properly analyze his actions so he can see the dirty details- bring it to light so he can be as ashamed as he should be.

Because he's not. And, he's aware of how this makes him out to be. He grew up with comic books where superheroes fought for justice and good guys always won, fighting valiantly against the evildoer. A father that fought his own version of the villain raised him, and so he was always conscious of the clear-cut lines between good and bad, right and wrong. And he _knows_ he's wrong- that he's the villain in this piece.

Eric betrayed his friends- his _brother_ practically, and he's not sorry.

The revelation had shocked him at first, briefly, until he realized that he wasn't the same person. He was an adult who had spent a year away on the other side of the world and returned to the exact same place- to the exact same people and he realized how insular his world had been before.

Eric grips the steering wheel, and inhales deeply. He hadn't intended for _that_ to happen with _her_ , and he had no idea why he picked that particular moment in time to act on something he hadn't really admitted to himself.

0o0

 _She looked so beautiful. Jackie hadn't changed outwardly at all, a picture of style and grace and sophistication that always stood out against the dour, faded background of Point Place._

 _When they had all gathered, he took particular interest in Jackie because she had slowly become quieter over the last year. Eric wondered how he hadn't noticed before because all that was left of the old gang in town was himself, Jackie and Hyde._

 _Maybe, it had culminated right then. The time, the place, their friends had somehow all aligned in a way that broke apart whatever bindings were holding her together. All he could do is stare at the way Hyde's hand was holding on to her waist and he could vaguely hear Hyde's dismissal of her-not the words but the_ tone _\- and he glanced up at her and found her staring ahead, face neutral, and he waits for the typical Jackie reaction, but when she just sat and toyed with the beer can in her hand, he frowned._

0o0

"Eric? Er, Steven's not here." Jackie goes to close the door, but he snakes a hand out to stop it.

"Yeah, I know. Look, Jackie can we…can we talk?" He watches her eyes grow wide before darting around in a panic. "I mean, just for a few minutes? Please?"

She sighs and opens the door and when he steps in he's acutely aware of Hyde's presence even though he's not here. Eric feels awkward, suddenly twisted up and tongue- tied and he has no idea what the fuck he was thinking, coming here.

"So talk." She's standing, arms crossed in front of her. He blinks at her and wonders what it is he wants to say first.

"I'm not sorry." Is what he says, and although he hadn't meant to say it, he did. It's honest and raw and the crux of the whole issue- for him anyway.

Apparently, that's not what she expects him to say, either. Her mouth drops open as her arms fall to her sides before quickly crossing them again. He thinks of the way her mouth was open when he had her, the look as he buried himself inside her, and it propels him to take the few steps that separate them so he can cup her face.

"I'm not sorry, Jackie. Are you?" He staring at her, hoping to convey what has been building inside him. For a moment, it looks as though she was going to agree, lips parted, breathing heavy. Instead, she breaks away and turns her back on him.

"Do you want something to drink?" Her voice is shaky and false, and he has no idea what the proper response is.

He follows her into the kitchen with heavy feet and a heavy feeling in his stomach and he watches as she pours something from a glass decanter on the counter into two tumblers. He has a faint recognition that the decanter was Jackie's idea, because Hyde was fine with drinking straight out of the bottle of whatever booze was lying around.

Eric braces himself against the counter, glass in hand staring at her, hoping to nudge some sort of reaction out of her. Jackie takes her drink in one swallow before turning around and refilling her glass.

She leans against the stove next to him. "I…I'm not sorry, either." It's said so quietly, he almost thinks she hadn't said anything at all.

He gapes at her, then tosses the drink down in one gulp like she did. He coughs and slams the glass down, scrubbing his hand over his face. "Jeez, Eric." She laughs and pats him on the back until the coughing subsides.

"Good stuff," he sputters when she rolls her eyes at him.

"Right," she drawls. "That's what I'm good for. Knowing a good drink and a good cigar, and being good arm-candy for Steven at those parties WB invites him to." She looks down into her glass, and Eric is at a loss for words. He recovers enough to pour himself another drink and he realizes she's said more in one sentence than she has in awhile.

"Isn't…isn't that what you wanted? The whole…trophy wife kind of thing?"

"I was _sixteen,_ Eric. What I wanted was to be loved. I thought…once I got back together with Steven," she waves her free hand around, "It'd all fall into place like it was supposed to."

Eric takes a sip; uncomfortable talking about whatever the relationship was between her and her boyfriend – his best friend. Jackie puts her glass down and sniffs, head bowed so her hair shields her face. It's this trigger that causes him to do what he's always done with her when she got like this through the years, and comforts her. He closes his arms around her and rests his face in her hair. She hesitates a second before wrapping her arms around his middle.

Eric holds on for a moment before stepping back and lifting her chin with his finger. "Hey, Jackie. We can forget any of this happened, okay? I can talk to Hyde, you know-"

" _No_." Her voice is strong and resolute. There's a fire in her eyes he hasn't seen in ages, and it only enhances the delicate loveliness of her face. "When I said I wasn't sorry, Eric, I meant that. I…told myself that's not the kind of person I am- that I was ever going to be, but you know what? When we-when we…" She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, "What we did that night? It was the first time I felt happy. Like, I actually…I actually _felt_ something." She breaks off and steps back, throwing her hands in the air.

"Jackie-" He can't finish what he's saying because the look on her face is so desperate, as if she's hoping he'll understand. He does.

He understands enough to grab her wrists and pull her to him.

That's the second time they're together.

0o0

At first, what goes on between them takes no calculation. There aren't hushed conversations in the dead of night over the phone, no days set aside for discreet meet ups.

What goes on between them happens because it feels like the natural course of things. They don't plan, they don't whisper words of longing as Hyde has his back turned. What there is, though, is a meeting of eyes-nods of understanding. Perhaps a casual comment about changes in Hyde's work schedule.

Neither will admit to each other that they both watch Hyde for any sign of catching on, and so far he doesn't. Steven Hyde doesn't notice how the two people closest to him have grown together in a way he couldn't ever fathom. How three became two, yet still are under the illusion of three.

0o0

Jackie is on her knees in front of him, and he's never seen a sight more stunning. He brushes aside her hair so he can watch as she takes him deeper. A delicate hand slowly squeezes where he hangs, and he throws his head back. It's never been like _this_.

It's good- the best, but he wants _her_. Not just her mouth, her… _everything_. Eric pulls her up and she kisses him, the faint taste of himself on her tongue. He directs her to the bed while they both shed clothes.

It's Jackie that pushes him, sitting, against the headboard. When she straddles him, he tries to brace himself, but as soon as she lowers herself onto him, it's so good his head hits the headboard so hard he nearly sees stars.

She's hot and wet, and he can smell _her_. Jackie is grinding against him, and the sight of her small, bare breasts hypnotizes him. Grabbing her hips, he pulls her closer so those breasts brush his face.

She hisses through clenched teeth then chants his name.

 _Eric, Eric, Oh Eric._

His name on her lips is enough to make him lose control. One hand stills on her waist while the other grabs the back of her neck to bring her face to his.

 _A/N: AmbientSpaceNoise mentioned a POV from Eric, so I gave it a go. Also, the title comes from a song that was big back when I was in high school- Third Eye Blind's "Semi-Charmed Life." A peppy song about a serious matter, and I thought it was fitting for the tone of this story._

 _This is now a 2/3 story._

 _God, I love these two._


End file.
